


damn i wish i was your lover

by inkk



Category: Metallica
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/F, Genderswap, Lesbian Sex, PWP, Rule 63, butch james hetfield, fluff with orgasms, harold theyre lesbians, soft butch kirk hammett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: It’s a Friday night when Kirk sees her for the first time.Tall, for a chick. Ripped up jeans, white t-shirt, and long, fluffy blonde hair under a backwards baseball cap. Kirk’s Customer-Service-Smile suddenly feels a lot more genuine.
Relationships: Kirk Hammett/James Hetfield
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	damn i wish i was your lover

**Author's Note:**

> just when i thought i couldn't get any more niche, i go ahead and write lesbian metallica porn! :-)  
> if i'm not mistaken, this might very well be the only F/F metfic in existence, or at least that i know of. so.... if you're here reading this, thank you. i know for a FACT that RTL/MOP-era james would have been hot as fuck as a chick
> 
> \--  
> edit 08/17/2020: SO GLAD TO ANNOUNCE THAT THIS IS NO LONGER THE ONLY F/F METFIC !!!  
> if you're into this sort of thing, please make sure you go check out [**got the bruise of the year**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25869916) by pinkmaggit!! it's james/jason leztallica, it's about roller derby, and it's a ridiculously delectable read ;-)

+

Good things happen on Fridays.

Friday means the small-time lotto numbers get posted. It means NBC’s _Night at the Movies_ is on. It means tomorrow is a Saturday… and it also means cheap Tequila Slammers, which means the bar is always packed full of college kids hellbent on destroying their braincells.

It’s a Friday night when Kirk sees her for the first time.

Tall, for a chick. Ripped up jeans, white t-shirt, and long, fluffy blonde hair under a backwards baseball cap. Kirk’s Customer-Service-Smile suddenly feels a lot more genuine.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” she asks, rising up on her toes and leaning over the counter to be heard over the din.

The chick hesitates for the briefest of seconds, eyes darting sideways. “Uh, rum and coke, please. Just a single.”

“Sure thing. Can I see some ID?”

The chick fumbles to produce it from one of her pockets, and Kirk gives it a perfunctory check: twenty-four. She didn't actually think the girl — Jamia — would be underage, but it’s policy to ask every now and then.

Also because maybe it’s an easy way to learn someone’s name.

“Coming right up,” Kirk says as she passes it back with a smile. The chick gives her a nod of thanks.

The soda pump at Kirk’s station broke last night, so she grabs a glass and ducks over to Lars’ side of the bar to mix the drink.

“You see that girl?” she half-shouts in Lars’ ear as she leans in to scoop the ice.

Lars looks up, surreptitiously scanning the bar. “Tall one? With the hat?”

“Yeah. You think...?”

Lars just grins and shakes her head, looking back down to where she’s punching an order in on the till. “Straight girls don’t wear baseball caps to bars, Kirk.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kirk laughs, despite the heat rising to her cheeks. She finishes mixing the drink in record time and rushes back over to her station.

“That’ll be a buck fifty, please,” she announces, carefully setting the glass down on the bar.

“Thanks,” Jamia gives her an awkward half-smile, passing her two crumpled ones. Kirk notices she's wearing rings — three of them on the one hand, all big, clunky silver. “Keep the change.”

Kirk grins. “Come see me when you want another.”

By the time the festivities finally begin to wind down around one-thirty, Kirk is feeling frazzled and sore and dead on her feet. They finish cleaning and tip-out by two-thirty, and then Lars gives her a ride home. Kirk barely manages to brush her teeth before falling into bed.

She finds herself mildly disappointed that Jamia never showed up again, but tells herself it doesn't really matter; she was on duty, anyways, and it’s not like she makes a habit of trying to pick up customers.

Life’s like that.

She basically forgets all about Jamia after that - which is why, when Kirk runs into her again a week later, she finds herself pleasantly surprised and a little caught off-guard.

They’re at a bar this time, too, but not _her_ bar; tonight’s Kirk’s night off, and despite the employee discount, she had wanted to get as far away from work as possible.

It’s a decision that she’s starting to regret a little as she enters her fifth minute of waiting for a drink, forearms leaning on the bar as she zones out. The place is slammed tonight. There was a live band earlier, which is the real reason she came — just some little local metal outfit Lars has been bugging her to go see — but the venue has long since switched back to crowd-friendly pop hits as the college kids pile in through the doors.

Kirk is starting to wonder if she should have just stayed home and watched anime when someone squeezes in beside her, knocking their elbows together. She has to look up to see who’s joined her, and when she does, she feels her stomach give a little flip.

It’s the girl. Jamia. Here, in all her glory.

“Oh,” Kirk manages, slightly bewildered. “Hi.”

For a split second she thinks Jamia won’t remember her, but then she gets a smile in return — a real one, big and toothy. “Hey, man. Slow service tonight, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kirk says. “You, uh— I remember you.”

Jamia quirks an eyebrow. “I remember you, too.”

Ah, shit. She’s even cuter up close. Deep-set eyes, fluffy hair, round nose… She’s got to be at least five-eight, maybe even nine, and standing this close, she seems to tower over Kirk’s meager five-one. 

Kirk laughs a little and tucks her hair behind her ears, ignoring the way it makes their arms brush together. “D’you come here often?”

Damn it. She really meant to come up with something more original than that.

Jamia’s grin just widens, showing a peek of her gums. “Nah, not really,” she says, leaning in closer to be heard over the din. “I was just here to meet the manager. Trying to get a gig for my band.”

Kirk’s eyes light up. She shifts her hips a little to face Jamia, putting her weight on one leg and bending the other. “Oh yeah?” she asks, “What d’you play?”

“Rhythm guitar,” Jamia replies. She averts her gaze for a second, drumming her knuckles on the counter. She’s wearing a sleeveless shirt tonight, with acid wash jeans and a fucking bullet belt wrapped around her skinny hips. She’s so painfully Kirk’s type that it hurts.

“So, you, uh— I’m James, by the way,” she says. It comes out sounding awkward and shy in a way that makes Kirk’s heart give a little patter.

 _James_.

It’s a strong name, Kirk thinks. Butch as hell and ready for action. It suits her better than Jamia, probably.

Kirk offers her own name in return, holding a hand out between them. James takes it. She’s wearing the same rings as last time, Kirk notices. Her palm is warm and dry and much bigger than Kirk’s own.

“I, uh. I play guitar, too,” Kirk adds, just to have something to say. “Sometimes. I mean, I’m kind of between bands right now, but. ‘S cool.”

“You like metal?” James points to her shirt.

Kirk actually has to look down to check what shirt she’s wearing — just the black Iron Maiden one, thank god. Nothing too dorky. She lets out a flustered little laugh and does the nervous hair-tucking thing again. “Yeah, I— Yeah.”

“‘S cool,” James echoes with a grin. Cheeky.

Thankfully, Kirk is saved from having to come up with a clever reply by the harried-looking bartender’s sudden appearance. She doesn't skip a beat ordering — “Three shots of vodka, please,” she tells him. “Or, uh.” She looks to James. “Actually, just make that six, I guess.”

Kirk’s not a good dancer, but going out drinking has a way of changing that.

James offers to buy the next round, which Kirk doesn't turn down, and then they start cracking jokes together, and then all of a sudden it's one-thirty in the morning and she’s shaking her ass to some stupid Michael Jackson song without one single care in the world. James doesn't seem to be much of a dancer, but that doesn't stop Kirk from getting all up in her business, anyway. James mainly just seems to think it's funny.

“You're so fucking bouncy,” she laughs, but she plays along, raising their linked hands for Kirk to twirl under. She’s the perfect height to make it work, and Kirk loves it. She loves this. She loves how the crowded dance floor gives them an excuse to be pressed together, moving with the crowd.

When she looks up, James is looking back at her with big, dark eyes, reflecting the glow of the neon lights. She licks her lips.

James leans in and says, “I was actually on my way out.” She has to yell it in Kirk’s ear just to be heard. “At the bar, I mean. I— I only stayed because I recognized you. I wanted to talk to you.”

Kirk’s hands slide up James’ arms, over her shoulders, palms resting hot and heavy. “I wanted to talk to you too,” she yells right back. They’re close, now, almost entirely pressed together. James’ hand comes up to slide under Kirk's hair, resting at the sweaty nape of her neck.

For a second, Kirk thinks James is going to kiss her. Her lips part a little bit — wantonly, invitingly — but James doesn’t make the move. She just leaves her hand there and then leans in again to be heard, says, “We shouldn't. Not here.”

Oh.

“We don't have to be here,” Kirk says stupidly.

James gives her a long, hard look. “Are you…”

Drunk? A little.

“My place is, like, three blocks away,” Kirk says, flustered. “I mean, if. If that’s what you meant.”

For a second, she thinks she’s read this situation wrong, that maybe James will back off or spit on her, and then—

“Yeah,” James says. Kirk reads the word off of her lips. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

Her hand finds Kirk’s again and she grins again, shyly, their palms sliding together. Kirk holds on tight as they start pushing their way back through the crowd.

The music abruptly falls away as they emerge out front, and Kirk tries not to feel the loss as James’ hand immediately drops hers. She watches James stuff her fists into her pockets instead, looking around, warily assessing the few smokers lingering along the sidewalk and the alley next door.

Kirk understands. She would probably be a little more careful, too, if she weren’t so buzzed. It’s a lot colder outside now than when either of them first went in, but the temperature does very little to dampen the rush of excitement thrumming through her veins. 

“My place is just four blocks that way,” she says, pointing vaguely down the street.

James knocks her shoulder lightly. “Lead the way.”

She casts one final glance behind them as they set off down the sidewalk.

Kirk's place isn't exactly what one would call ‘nice’, per se, but it does the trick. She pays two hundred dollars a month and lives on her own in a one-room bachelor suite above a Chinese grocery store, and she figures that's about all she can ask for.

“Cool posters,” James says once Kirk lets them in, locking the door behind them.

Kirk feels her face heat up. It’s as if she’s seeing her own apartment for the first time — the unwashed mugs beside the sink, the action figures, the wonky stacks of VHS tapes and cassettes, the gigantic Frankenstein poster she got for her thirteenth birthday… 

“I know it’s dorky,” she admits, kicking off her shoes with very little ceremony. “Sorry. I-I would have cleaned, if I had known.”

“I like it,” James says. “Still cleaner than my place, anyway.”

There’s silence for a moment. Kirk frantically searches for something to say, to fill the dead air, to dispel the skittish giggle she feels bubbling up in her throat.

“So, uh,” she finally manages, rubbing at one wrist. “I don't really do this kind of thing very often.”

“Me neither,” James shrugs. Her thumbs are tucked into her pockets, the corner of her mouth tilting up into a charming little half-smile. “Can I kiss you?”

Kirk nods quickly. “That, uh. That would probably be a good place to start, yeah.”

James lifts one hand to Kirk’s shoulder as she takes a step closer, the other landing gently on Kirk’s waist. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kirk nods again. She can't keep the goofy grin off her face as James leans in, and even though James bends down, Kirk still has to rock up onto her toes to meet her halfway.

Her lips are warm and a little chapped, like maybe she just doesn't use chapstick. She tastes a little like vodka, too, but Kirk's not complaining.

“You’re really tall,” Kirk says when they part.

James grins. “Really? No one’s ever told me that before.”

Kirk flushes. “Shut up.”

“You shut me up.”

It doesn't take long for them to stumble their way over to Kirk’s bed. Kirk barely has time to think _’shit, when’s the last time I washed my sheets?’_ before James is pushing her back and climbing on top.

Kirk lets it happen. She goes down easy, hair splaying out around her head as her hands fly up to James’ skinny hips with a breathless little laugh.

They kiss like that for a moment. James’ hands roam the length of her torso before eventually settling on her breasts. Her hands are big enough that they cover Kirk’s tits entirely, thumbs sliding over her nipples through the flimsy layer of her bra.

“Fuck,” Kirk breathes. Her chest is rising and falling beneath James’ palms, heart going a mile a minute.

“Why don't you take your pants off?” James suggests, cocking her head to one side. The golden wave of her hair drifts across Kirk’s shoulder.

“Good idea,” Kirk says dumbly. “I— I can do that. Yeah.”

James laughs. She climbs off and shuffles over to sit back against the headboard, giving Kirk room to sit up and wrestle with the fly of her skinny jeans. She doesn't bother trying to be graceful as she peels them down her legs, yanking them over her feet and taking her socks with them.

She’s glad she decided to wear her red underwear to the bar tonight — nothing fancy, but at least they’re clean. She wasn't exactly expecting to bring a smoking hot blonde home with her.

When she straightens up, James is sitting with her impossibly long legs stretched out in front of her, casually slipping her rings off. Kirk watches with wide eyes as she tucks them into one pocket. 

“C’mere,” she says, patting her lap.

Kirk as good as launches herself back onto the bed. Her mouth feels dry as she clambers into James’ lap, folding her bony knees on either side of James’ thighs; she smells kind of like sweat up close like this, and it’s intoxicating. Kirk’s stomach feels full of butterflies. When James pulls her in for another kiss, it’s like the swoop that comes from a rollercoaster — all of the rush, none of the fear.

They kiss for a long moment, deep and hard, before James’ hand slips down between Kirk’s legs; just resting there, really, cupping her over the damp material of her panties.

“Yeah?” James breathes into her mouth, and Kirk nods in return, a soft, high-pitched sound escaping as she pushes her hips into the contact. She can feel it when James grins against her lips.

James drags her hand upward, pressing a little more firmly. She slides the pads of her fingers over Kirk’s clit and then back down again, massaging her with an infuriating degree of patience. Kirk shifts restlessly and grinds down as best as she can.

“Oh, god,” she exhales, her voice embarrassingly breathy. “Please.”

James laughs. Her gaze drops from Kirk’s face to where her own hand is shifting between Kirk’s thighs, her expression one of such utter transfixion that Kirk feels at once self-conscious and also like she’s going to die from being so turned on. James tugs her panties aside, sliding one finger over her folds and then curling two inside of her in one smooth motion. The grunt Kirk makes feels like it's been punched out of her.

“Oh, Jesus,” she says, laughing as she buries her face into James’ shoulder. “Oh, god.”

“You're so fucking wet,” James tells her, amused. It’s true. She’s so turned on she’s practically dripping.

“Sorry,” Kirk says in a tiny voice. Her cheeks are aflame as she squirms. “I— you're, like, really, really hot. And my vibrator broke last month, so.”

“Definitely a compliment,” James says. She starts thrusting and curling her fingers, rubbing over Kirk’s clit with her thumb, and whatever Kirk was about to reply with is lost to a groan so loud and shrill she almost surprises herself.

“Fuck,” she breathes into James’ collarbone, rocking her hips. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It’s a little embarrassing, but she wasn't kidding — it’s been more than a little while since the last time she got laid, and even this is enough to make her whine like a virgin.

James’ other hand is grabbing at her ass, now, playing with the waistband of her panties, and Kirk squirms, says, “Wait, hang on, let me— Let me get them off,” so James withdraws her fingers with an embarrassing squelching noise and Kirk climbs off so she can slide them down her legs, kicking them over to God knows where, and then she thinks _fuck it_ and pulls her shirt off, too.

“Look at you,” James says, reaching for her, pulling her back in by the hips.

Kirk gives a giddy, breathless little laugh as she clambers back into James’ lap, reaching behind herself to unclasp her bra and slide the straps down her arms. Her nipples are hard as fucking rocks when James reaches out to touch, cupping her tits with those deliciously gigantic palms and that same strange, captivated look on her face.

Kirk ducks her head, embarrassed. “C’mon, you too,” she plucks at the chest of James’ shirt. “Don't get distracted.”

“Maybe I just like watching you squirm,” James says, gently tweaking one brown nipple, but she lets go long enough to tug her own tank off over her head anyways.

She’s more solid than Kirk is; a bit more lean as opposed to just skinny, with broader, freckled shoulders and a hint of muscle to her arms. Her beige bra is ratty and old-looking and Kirk really just wants to lick her all over. She noses her way under James’ jaw and brushes her teeth there, over the soft skin of her neck, breathing her in. James’ hands move back down to her ass and pull her in closer, fingertips lazily dragging over her cunt from behind. 

“Wanna fuck you,” she murmurs, nudging Kirk’s chin up for a kiss. Her voice is kind of rough, kind of deep and lazy, in a special way that makes Kirk feel high.

“Yeah,” Kirk breathes out between them, noses brushing as she nods like a bobble-head toy. “Whatever you want, yeah.”

“Can I eat you out?”

Kirk licks her lips and nods. “Yeah.”

She swears she’s going to go to heaven. Seriously. Right here, right now, naked and straddling this beautiful chick on her bed, she feels like she might legitimately be ascending to the afterlife.

She lets James manhandle her until they’ve switched positions, with Kirk lying back against the headboard and James situated between her legs.

She tucks her hair behind her ears and looks up at Kirk. “Comfortable?”

“Y-Yeah,” Kirk manages breathlessly. “Yeah, you…”

James isn't shy about pushing her thighs up a little, spreading her open a little wider, and Kirk loses the rest of the sentence on a whimper as she leans in and goes to work.

Apparently, James doesn’t fuck around when it comes to eating pussy.

Her hands are strong where they’re wedged into the clammy backs of Kirk’s knees, holding her legs up and out of the way. She licks into Kirk with enthusiasm, with her whole face, with her nose buried in Kirk’s pubic hair like her life depends on it.

Dimly, Kirk realizes she's babbling a stream of curses. Her feet are curling and flexing and shaking like she's being fucking electrocuted. It takes her a long minute before she comes to her senses enough to release her iron grip on her blankets in favour of holding her own calves.

The upside of that is that suddenly, James’ hands are free. Kirk looks down over her heaving stomach and sees a flash of James’ tongue sliding over the swollen nub of her clit just before two of those long fingers slide up inside her.

She squirms, hard. She can't help it. Looking down and seeing James’ face buried between her legs like that is gorgeously pornographic, and the sight makes her entire body go hot, legs twitching in the air. It’s too much. Combined with the hot, quick slide of James' tongue as she alternates between licking and sucking, her fingers curling, rubbing, reaching somewhere inside that makes time and space go fuzzy.

"Fuck," she mumbles. "James, fuck, feels good, feels so fucking good, I—"

She tosses her head back and gasps, hips thrusting up a little, one hand reaching blindly down to pet at James' hair. Dimly, she thinks she feels James exhale an amused laugh.

It's magic. Fucking _magic._

"God, you're cute," James says from between her thighs. When Kirk looks down, James is staring back at her, grinning as the rhythm of her fingers picks up speed.

Kirk bites her lip and whimpers a little, eyes wide. Her hips jerk sharply as James lowers her head to suck at her clit. She’s tingling all over. Before she knows it, she’s riding up that crest, feeling the build, and “Oh, fuck. James, I-I’m gonna—”

“Yeah,” James says, thrusting steadily at her cunt, “C’mon, baby.”

She rubs over Kirk’s clit again with her thumb, firmly and unyieldingly, and Kirk flinches as the orgasm hits her like a fucking train. The sensation rockets through her so hard her vision greys out and her legs spasm, thighs snapping shut despite herself. She cries out and grips on tight to her shins as James finishes fingering her through it.

“Holy shit,” Kirk gasps out. Her thighs are shuddering, cheeks flushed, and James takes that as her cue to slow her pace and relent. “Oh my god.”

Kirk slowly lets her legs fall, feet planting back into the mattress. She watches with dazed infatuation as James wipes her fingers off on her own pants and crawls back up the bed, wearing a grin that can only be described as shit-eating. She gives Kirk's nipple a little tweak, and Kirk weakly swats at her in return. Her cunt is clenching and releasing so hard it feels like a full-body activity.

“Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” she finally musters the braincells to ask.

James just shrugs, and Kirk laughs, turning to face her so she can pull her in for a kiss. “Thank you. That was— I mean, that was fucking amazing.”

“Don't mention it,” James mutters into her mouth, her lips curling into a pleased smile as Kirk gropes at her ass.

She’s still somehow wearing pants, but Kirk quickly takes care of the issue, pushing ineffectually at her waistband until James gets the hint and kicks them off herself.

Naked, she's truly a sight to behold. Her legs are long and skinny like the rest of her — lithe and strong, skin bronzed into a prominent farmer’s tan by months of sun. Kirk wants to touch her all over, so she does, marvelling at the firmness of her stomach and the puffy pink peaks of her nipples.

James chuckles softly and rolls them so she’s on top. She kisses like her life depends on it, her whole body rocking with the motion as she straddles Kirk’s hips.

“Touch me,” she breathes, grabbing Kirk’s hand and pulling it between her thighs.

_All of the rush, none of the fear._

It’s been a while since Kirk last got a girl off, but James makes it easy. She just keeps kissing Kirk like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, rocking down onto her hand in quick little motions. Their position is a little awkward for Kirk to maneuver, but James groans in encouragement when Kirk teases two fingers at her slit, the heel of her hand a steady pressure on James’ clit. She’s hot and slick all over when Kirk pushes in.

“Like that?” Kirk breathes between ferocious kisses.

James nods. “Yeah. Yeah, just—” she swallows, “Just like that. Fuck.”

She’s properly riding Kirk’s fingers now, setting the pace just how she wants it. Her mouth drops open. Her cunt is tight like a fucking vice, and even tighter when Kirk pulls out and slips back in with three, rubbing over the slickness of her folds, pulling James in closer with the other arm so she can land a sloppy, openmouthed kiss. The motion of her wrist is furious — perks of being a guitar player — and after a moment she can feel the way James’ thighs start to tremble, hips jerking erratically for the first time.

James doesn't moan or whine, but her mouth drops open, panting. “Fuck. _Shit_.”

Kirk grins and doubles down her efforts, pressing the side of her thumb snugly up against James’ clit to give her something to rub down on. James groans deep in her chest and surges forward for another kiss. She grabs at Kirk’s shoulders, palms landing over her collarbones, and when she finally comes, it's silent. Her hips judder and she falls forward, panting curses into the side of Kirk’s neck.

Kirk slows her pace and works her through it, feeling the hot pulse of James around her fingers. “Yeah?” she giggles.

“Yeah,” James slurs into her hair. “Fuck.”

It takes another moment before she musters the energy to sit back on her haunches, propping herself up with her hands on either side of Kirk’s head. Kirk’s fingers slip out of her with a wet sort of sound, and before Kirk can really think too hard about it, she’s raising them to her lips to suck them clean.

“God,” James says, staring. “Can you— Do you want to go again?”

+

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come say hi on tumblr @[shotgunmessiahs](http://shotgunmessiahs.tumblr.com)! 💕


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